


Snap!

by bellygunnr



Category: Splatoon
Genre: Anger Management, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Light Angst, Minor fight scene, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-20
Updated: 2020-05-14
Packaged: 2020-12-24 23:29:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21107762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellygunnr/pseuds/bellygunnr
Summary: Rider isn't trying to be angry anymore-- he hasn't been for a while. But it happens sometimes and he hates it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [if blue team lost](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21095342) by [tsuluio](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tsuluio/pseuds/tsuluio). 

Bamboo groaned as Stealth beat her for the sixth time that hour, slumping back against the couch and letting her controller fall from her hands. She shakes her head in defeat, thoroughly exhausted from battling it out in the fighting game-- as much as she enjoyed it, she was just no match for Stealth.

"Okay, okay, I'm gonna give it over to Blazer," Bamboo says, grinning. She presses the controller to Blazer.

"Awh, but you were getting really close..." Stealth replies, turning his head toward the screen. He changes everything over to the character select. His helmet had been removed, revealing tentacles swept up into spikes, more yellow than green.

"I'm gonna crush you!" Blazer says, taking the controller.

"That's what you said the last three times we did this," Stealth snorts. "God speed and good luck, nerd."

Battle music fills the apartment once more as Stealth and Blazer face off. Bamboo watches with amusement, cheering on Blazer as the underdog, even if the current battle was already one-sided. She takes the chance to look back at Rider, frowning at her team captain.

He hadn't moved from his spot at all since they woke up this morning. His nose was in a book but she could tell his eyes had stopped reading. She wiggles off from the couch, mindful not to disturb her teammates.

"Whachya reading, Rider?" she asks innocently.

"Nothing," Rider says automatically, closing the book. The cover is unassuming except for the title-- some kind of anger management book, well-used if the sleeve was anything to go by.

Bamboo hums noncommittally. "Didn't know you liked reading."

"I don't, usually. I've been told it can be helpful, though..."

"What, from Army?" Bamboo jokes. She peers into their fridge to get herself a glass of milk.

They're out of milk. She looks at Rider accusingly.

"Why are ya lookin' at me like that?" Rider says crossly, ears pinning back.

"You drank all the milk!" she says, waving her hand at the milk-less fridge.

"I can't drink milk!" Rider protests. "Stealth drank all the milk, not me."

That earns a quick glance from the inkling, then a shout as the distraction leads to his defeat at the hands of Blazer. He doesn't grace the accusation with a response because Blazer's cheering fills the apartment.

Bamboo rolls her eyes and settles for sitting beside Rider at the kitchen table, letting the fridge close with a puff. She pulls the book closer to herself and leafs through it. It is well-worn-- several of the pages have been dog-eared or marked up, some more freshly than others.

Rider looks at her with an impassive expression. He feels his skin crawl.

Part of him wanted to snap at her and lash out, but the events of yesterday, and the lessons of that book, warned him not to. He had already relapsed once-- he couldn't afford to do it twice in the same week. He folds his hands together, looking at the table.

+  
_A short burst of losses had turned Rider's mood sour within minutes, a feeling that he couldn't stop himself from dwelling on, letting it ferment into proper rage. Every mistake became a strike against his conscious and every little sound-- be it a Splat Bomb, a Sprinkler, or even a teammate passing by-- encouraged him to lash out, stayed only by his inability to speak._

_It was early in the morning, after all. He never spoke much before 10 A.M., even when his blood was running hot._

_He could barely remember what had been the last thing to set him off. Blazer and Stealth were chattering away at the spawn pad before the foghorn blared. When it did, they had lingered, and the sight lit a spark in his brain._

_"Would you guys shut up and turf already?! Don't be stupid!"_

_Hurt flashed in Blazer's eyes. Stealth flinched back, shoulders hunching as he clutched his Jet Squelcher close to his chest._

_Rider's grip on his Dynamo slackened, but only for a moment._

_"Ridiculous..."_  
+  
Bamboo slides the book back over.

"You know, I think this is working for you," she says with a smile. Then she leans in close, hands falling over Rider's. "They aren't mad at you, y'know."

"But they should be," Rider sighs, voice quiet. "I shouldn't have done it."

She shrugs. "Why don't you play that game with them?"

"That'll just make me angry," he says evenly. "Screens give me a headache."

"Yeah, okay, fair," she says.

Rider stares down at their hands, still loosely held together. He doesn't mind the contact one bit. The contrast is interesting-- his dark skin against her pale, yellow frecklings of ink just barely visible across her wrists. He hadn't considered that Bamboo had freckles before.

"Freckles are ink-colored?" he asks, mystified.

"Oh, yeah, I guess they are," Bamboo says mildly. She wiggles her fingers, tapping over Rider's knuckles. "Neat, huh?"  
+

Rider leans past the door frame leading into Stealth and Blazer's room, claws hooking into the wood slightly.

"I'm sorry about snapping yesterday," Rider says quietly.

"Awh, Rider!" Blazer coos, pointed ears flipping up. "It's okay!"

Stealth looks up from his bed, tongue poking out. He smiles at Rider tentatively.

"Yeah, R-Ri, it's okay," he says.

He shudders, disbelieving, but bows his head to them and goes to his own room. Bamboo and he shared-- why they had configured it like this, he forgot, but here they were.  
+

Now that it's dark, and he's fairly certain Bamboo is asleep, Rider has to dwell on the past year. A lot had changed since that tournament with Blue Team. He couldn't say confidently that he had handled all the change well.

His anger had lessened, sure, if this week was anything to go by. And he couldn't help but doubt if Stealth and Blazer were telling the truth. Were they still scared of him?

_I don't want that_, he thinks desperately. _Anything but that. I couldn't bear it._

First his faith he lent to the others, then his trust, solidified as they continued to work together. Their faith, then their trust, had been returned in kind, but still the nagging fear--

Rider sighs. He stuffs his face into one of his pillows and tries to silence the whirling anxiety. At this rate, it'd be another sleepless night. Oh, well.

Tomorrow would be a better day.


	2. Chapter 2

"Those Blue Team idiots are ridiculous. Who do they think they are, joining another Tourney?"

Rider's head snaps around at the comment, immediately spotting the Inkling standing by a jumbo kiosk. It was a booth-like structure that kept track of Turf War rotations, as well as local competitions, most commonly found on school grounds. He stares, watching the inkling intently.

"That Goggles kid doesn't know one end of his Splattershot from the other, either. Have you seen him in action? And he defeated Rider!"

Another jeering voice, one of the Inkling's friends. Rider flicks his eyes to the school entrance. Blazer was due to come out any minute now.

_Come on, Blaze_, he thinks desperately.

His hands were already fists, temper set to sparks by the comments. He grinds his boots against the pavement to try and distract himself.

"Oh, well..."

Rider watches the Inklings move away from the booth and, terribly, begin walking closer to him. That made sense-- he was standing next to the gates. He watches them with murderous intent.

One of them notices. He's wearing a school uniform, tentacles swept into spikes. Around his neck is a chain necklace.

"What's your problem, man?" He spits, laughing.

"Be nice to Blue Team," Rider grinds out.

"Why? They're a bunch of idiots-- _ouch!_"

Rider's fist smashes against their nose. His stomach churns as instead of the bone breaking, the muscle beneath the skin dissolves-- a defense mechanism. He immediately snaps away.

"Don't say stupid shit like that! You don't know them. Get out of my face," Rider snarls, desperate to keep appearances.

"What the hell-! Asshole!" The boy spits again, already running off.

Rider stumbles back, pressing himself against the tree he stood under, skin burning as he senses several eyes turned upon him. At least his outfit shook anyone off from recognizing him.

"R- Rider? Did you just punch that kid?"

Blazer.

He looks up at her, mouth agape. He nods jerkily.

"Why on earth did you do that? Oh, my god... Come on, we need to get home."

She grabs his arm and drags him out of the school grounds. And he submits entirely, ashamed.

+

Rider sits on the couch, spine ramrod straight against its back, fists curled tightly across his knees. His knuckles still hurt from where his fist had connected, the only certain indicator he had done something stupid. His breathing has evened out at the very least.

"I'm _sorry_," he says immediately.

"Shush," Blazer huffs. "What the hell was that all about, Rider?"

He shakes his head. "I think he said something about Blue Team."

She sighs. The couch shifts slightly as Blazer sits beside Rider, putting a hand over his.

"I thought we weren't doing that anymore. Attacking people over Blue Team," she says softly. Her expression is tired. "Or us, for that matter," she adds dryly.

Rider deflates, putting his head in his hands. "I used my words first, at least."

"Clearly not very many," she shoots back. "Come on, Ri."

He shrugs, defeated. At least this time, the "fight" didn't even feel good. It had just scared him witless.

That's probably a good thing, right?

"I'm sorry," he repeats. "Stealth should probably pick you up next time. I know you don't like walking home alone but I..."

Blazer shakes her head, sighing. "You've been walking me home for months now. This is the only incident, right? Let's try it one more time."

Rider puts his head in his hands. Blazer was too kind to him. He really hadn't improved at all since they had first met.

"Blazer," he says. "It ain't a good idea. I'm not gonna do it."

If anything, he and Stealth could go together. Even if it was stupid. Rider swallows a bitter laugh-- his self-confidence had taken a few shots recently.

"If you insist, Rider," she says finally. "But you get dinner detail tonight! Not me!"

"Yeah, that's fair..."

+

Rider knew how to cook, of course. Between lessons from his mother and a long time living alone, he had learned quite a lot. His only issue is that he ate a lot. And he had trouble remembering that others did not eat quite as much as him.

Well, Bamboo did.

He loved Bamboo for that.

Blazer looks down at the array of food with amusement, knowing full well that it was barely enough for Bamboo and Rider together, but more than plenty for she and Stealth.

"You really outdid yourself this time," Blazer chuckles.

"I thought it was my turn for dinner... What changed?" Stealth pouts. "I wanted to- to try a new recipe."

Blazer and Rider look at each other, then shake their heads. Best not to tell quite yet.

"Sorry, Stealth. Guess we have to change the order again this month."


	3. Temper, temper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One step forward, two steps back.

Rage at something innocuous, a minor inconvenience-- a swearing tirade, incited by grievances of the day, furious gesturing, bared teeth, blindly ignoring reason because you're angry now and want to express it, even as you're aware of your friends watching you-- friends who do not deserve such a show.

Such is Rider, now, shouting from the chest, shouting so that the flesh is irritated and the pain lingers, a constant reminder when the temper fades.

"If you would just listen for once, Goggles, we wouldn't have fucking lost! God dammit!"

Goggles' being Hard of Hearing notwithstanding, Rider's shout lost amid the echoing rattle of autobombs trotting--

"God dammit... That's our third fuckin' loss, doesn't help that that god damn brush kept targetin' me!"

Once the rage has passed, the lungs exhausted, muscles trembling as the adrenalin leaves them, the brief catharsis only ever feels good in the moment. In the subsequent moments, you are forced to confront consequences-- hurt feelings, tearful eyes, insecurities attacked.

The cold dread of realizing what you've said, how the regret stays with you, knowing that you've made an irreparable transgression that an apology will not absolve.

How you have to try, anyway.

"Look, Goggles-- we shouldn'ta turfed. I'm in a pissy fuckin' mood, and I'm real sorry. I'm gonna go."


	4. Sizzle & Hiss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cooking.

Chaos reached Rider's ears before his eyes. Blazer's voice was the loudest, though Stealth was starting to rival hers, and the clang of metal pans was a backdrop to their argument. Rider shoulders the apartment door shut as best he can, but his arrival remains ignored, which is irritating at best. His hands are full, after all, and the boxes of food he brought are starting to slip from his grip. Another crash echoes through the apartment by the time he gets to the dinner table.

Bamboo is already sitting at one end, determinedly tapping away into her phone. A block of wood and a knife are sat in front of her, but judging by the mangled state of the wood, her frustration had gotten the better of her.

He sits beside her. 

"You know, I remember being promised lunch by the time I got here. I cleaned up and everything," Rider says loudly, tipping his chair back. He wobbles slightly on the chair's two rear legs. "But all I see is y'all fightin'!"

"We're not fighting!" Blazer says immediately, springing away from what was definitely a struggle over a skillet. "We're trying to split up cooking duties."

"I don't trust Blazer with the stove," Stealth says. "So I want her to slice up the vegetables. And the meat. You know, for the stir fry."

Rider looks on with a begrudging sense of wonder. His friends were usually very level-headed-- it was part of why they had clicked in the first place. While fights had been common in the beginning, they had tapered off quickly (especially once he himself matured). It had been a month since a spat like this occurred. 

He could hardly blame Bamboo for checking out.

"What happened with Blazer and the stove to warrant that?" Rider asks, eyebrows raised. "Last time I checked, she weren't too bad, yeah?" 

"Oil fire," Bamboo pipes up.

"Oil fire," Rider repeats slowly.

"There-- look, I was watching Squid's Anatomy and Dr. Cuttlefish was dying, and it was very sad!" Blazer says, putting her face into her hands. "Maybe I got sucked in and forgot I was making something!" 

"Well, at least you're remorseful," Rider says mildly. "But chop veggies while Stealth handles the wok, okay? Why do you even have a skillet out..."

Honestly, it's like they pulled out everything in the cabinets for fun. What the hell. 

"We have a wok?" Blazer hisses, looking around in confusion.

"Uh, yeah? It's why I was trying to take the skillet back!" Stealth says, prying the pan away finally. "Please cut the peppers."

The noise levels and the chaos dies down after that. Bamboo returns to whittling away at her mangled wood block and Rider takes to stealing rice balls out of the boxes he brought. His face screws up every time he reaches the umeboshi core, but it's the part he likes best. He stops when Blazer threatens to wack him with a spoon for eating out of turn.

That's fair enough, Rider decides, but he's still hungry. He shoots Bamboo a look when she also steals a rice ball.

"You put pickled plums in there?" 

"Yes."

Blazer and Stealth have found a comfortable rhythm inside the limited confines of the kitchen. They step around each other with an ease that only proximity and trust can bring on-- a comfortableness that Rider was still aspiring to reach with his team. He couldn't help but be jealous in some kind of way. But it made sense that they were so close-- Blazer, Stealth, and Bamboo had been friends for years, and what?

He's only known them for five or six months at best. And for two of those months, he was an utter asshole--

"Careful, Rider. Your face will get stuck like that."

Rider startles, pulled out of his thoughts. A heaping bowl of fried rice is already in front of him. Had he done that, or did someone else? If so, who?

"Right, uh, sorry," Rider breaths, eyes wide. "I was just... thinking."

He shakes himself out. 

"Let's eat!" Stealth says, and starts to dig in. 

-

"I'm glad we're friends," Rider admits to a dark room. "If that means anything."

Compression gloves squeeze his hands, reducing the pain that riddles the muscle. 

"I'm not very good with relationships yet," he continues. "And I have a lot of issues. But I'm trying. So... thanks for putting up with me, I guess."

Something soft collides with his chest and bounces back onto the floor. No one says anything, but he gets the message all the same. With a contented half-sigh, he rolls himself over and tries to settle in to sleep.

Today was good, for all its hiccups.


End file.
